


da mi basia mille (deinde centum).

by flustraaa



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Bisexual Disaster Sokka (Avatar), Idiots in Love, Love at First Sight, M/M, Oblivious Zuko (Avatar), Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28474590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flustraaa/pseuds/flustraaa
Summary: “give me a thousand kisses, and then a hundred more— or, just the one on New Year’s Eve... yeah, that’ll do.”(or,the one where sokka is sick of being partnerless when the clock strikes midnight).
Relationships: Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 91





	da mi basia mille (deinde centum).

It all starts on New Years Eve, when Sokka— half-tipsy on cherry wine catches the hand of the first person who walks by him. 

Halcyon meets cerulean, and Sokka vaguely recognises the wide eyes staring back at him as the friend of Ty Lee, who’s hosting the party. He’s sixty percent sure the guy’s name is Zuko, and one hundred percent sure that he’s attractive— and that, is absolutely all it takes for Sokka to make up his mind in the space between one heart best to the next. 

“Are you sober?” He speaks, and the guy— Zuko, hopefully— looks at him with wide owlish eyes. He’s not offended, he’s probably scaring the daylights out of this poor dude. 

He opens his mouth, pausing as if you answer before snapping it shut and nodding. When Sokka’s eyebrow quirks in question, the owner of the hand that he’s still tightly grasping quietly states, “yeah. I had a whiskey sour earlier, but I’m sober now.” 

“Okay, so in about thirty seconds do you want to kiss me?” He watches carefully as Zuko’s cheeks flush, coughing awkwardly as if choking on his own spit at the suggestion. “It’s totally okay if you say no. Like, if you have a partner or not, just tell me what to do.” 

Zuko throws a glance over his right shoulder, eyes settling on the clock before he turns back to Sokka, “are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I had some cherry wine, but I’m definitely not a light weight and I ate before. I’m sober, and down if you’re down.” 

Shouts of the last five seconds of the year ring in the other room, “Alright. Kiss me.” 

Sokka grins from ear to ear, reaching down to take the scarred side of his new kissing pal’s face in his hand. Their lips meet right as the stupid party poppers and horns sound, and suddenly, he doesn’t mind coming to a party without any jungle juice. 

He doesn’t even really process that they’re still kissing until his tongue finds the inside of Zuko’s mouth, and he pulls away. 

“I— I don’t think that’s a good idea, I’m not really looking for a one night stand—“ Zuko swallow hard, eyes looking anywhere but Sokka, “I’m sorry.” 

Sokka’s eyes widen as he realises that this guy is literally apologising for not wanting to take it any further with a college student he’s never spoken to, “No! No, that’s so okay, bud! I just— didn’t want to be the only one without a kiss on New Years Eve, y’know?” 

“Yeah, yeah— I—“ he hesitates, glancing at his watch, “would you um... would you be interested in getting some air with me?” 

“Sure, do you want to get a drink first?” 

“Yeah,” Zuko murmurs, as a small smile twists onto his lips, “that sounds great.”

* * *

That’s how Sokka ends up on Ty-Lee’s terrace, huddling under a blanket with Zuko in a hooded chair that sways back and forth with the wind. 

Their drinks are long gone, elbows only barely touching his newfound friend— whose name is, in fact, Zuko. 

“That’s nothing,” Zuko mumbles, leaning back against the fuchsia pillow behind him. Sokka’s just told him about the time he got drunk back home and decided it’d be a good idea to go ice skating with Katara, and nearly fell into the ice. “Every time I get smashed I recite poetry, specifically, Shakespeare. Every. Single. Time.” 

“Oh, word,” Sokka chuckles quietly, trying to imagine it, “is it any good?” 

“I have absolutely no clue. It might only be recognisable to my friends— I never get blackout drunk anymore,” he lets out a sigh, letting his head lie fully against the cushion behind him, eyes closing.

Sokka, to his surprise, joins him, “recite some poetry, I’m all ears.”

Aureate irises flash through the nigh, the fabric beneath inky hair rustling quietly as Zuko turns to look at him in surprise, “are you sure?”

“Yeah. I don’t know much about poetry— I’m a Engineering student— but I can listen,” suddenly feeling sappy, Sokka let’s his head lull to the side until he can fully see Zuko beside him, “I’ll always listen if you have something to say.”

“Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck; And yet methinks I have Astronomy, but not to tell of good or evil luck, of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality;” Sokka watches as Zuko faces the sky again, closing his eyes and he relays the words written hundreds of years ago.

Something in him aches— yearns? He’s not really sure, but if he knows anything is that he wants to hear Zuko’s recitations for more than just tonight.

He presses on, “Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind, or say with princes if it shall go well  
By oft predict that I in heaven find: but from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, and, constant stars, in them I read such art.”

_Well, shit_ , Sokka thinks, _I’m falling in love with a dude I’ve known for three hours._

“As truth and beauty shall together thrive, if from thyself, to store thou wouldst convert;  
or else of thee this I prognosticate: thy end is truth’s and beauty’s doom and date,” he murmurs quietly, before adding on, “Shakespeare, sonnet fourteen.”

“That was rad,” Sokka whispers after a moment of silent as passed between them, “do it again.”

Zuko’s once ivory skin now flushes with heat, turning a soft pink in the moonlight, “you don’t have to— it’s okay if you want to talk about something else.”

“No,” Sokka quells, “I’m serious. Please, do it again.”

* * *

Sokka wakes up slowly, heat pressed into his chest and an arm weighing heavily over a shape that feels suspiciously like another human.

He’s still clothed, and quickly realising that his nose is cold as shit— actually, his entire face feels like he’s just taken a quick dip into liquid nitrogen.

He cracks his eyes open, glancing down to find Zuko huddled completely against his chest, arms gripping Sokka’s waist with surprising force for someone who’s still breathing too deeply to be remotely awake.

“Oh,” he croaks, voice rough with the sleep that still threatens to pull him back under, “Zuko.”

“Hm?” If he’d known all it would take to stir his personal furnace to land of the living, he would’ve kept his mouth shut for far longer.

“Nothing,” the tension growing in his companions shoulders lessens significantly, and Sokka relaxes when Zuko starts to go blissfully boneless again in his grasp, “go back to sleep.”

“M’kay,” he hums, and like that, he’s out again.

As it turns out, Sokka isn’t far behind.

He’ll deal with whatever hell there is to pay for falling asleep on the outdoor swing of an apartment that doesn’t belong to him, with a boys he’s just met in the morning— but for now, he’ll dream of a future where maybe poetry recitations before he falls asleep aren’t a one time only thing. 


End file.
